


Denouement.

by premeditated



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Bittersweet Ending, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Eulogies, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-07 08:50:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18617257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/premeditated/pseuds/premeditated
Summary: Denouement: the final part of a story, where all the loose ends come together, and everything is made clear. The resolution that comes after the falling action.Natasha got her falling action, alright. This is her resolution.





	Denouement.

**Author's Note:**

> so... this is just a little cathartic piece because i'm really sad about black widow and didn't feel totally finished mourning by the end of the movie. (in comparison, i DEFINITELY got all my iron man catharsis, and also, i died.) i'm sad. i'm so sad. and this is one of the only parts of the movie that i felt left room for fanon addition, so. here we are. leave your black widow misery in the comments and i'll commiserate. </3

And plummet. The cool caress of wind on both cheeks, the wings that carry, that bear, that lift. The waiting embrace of the earth, that swooping anticipation. Fall through the sky. Slice right through the horizon, and enter. And arrive.

Natasha had thought a lot about how she would finally die.

For her, it was always a question of “What weapon?” or “Who does it?” She took for granted that she would die on the battlefield—that’s just how it would be. A soldier’s death, if she was feeling optimistic that day, but probably something less honorable.

Never, not once, had she even recognized herself as a possibility. Herself the answer to both questions, the weapon, the cause, the killer—it was inconceivable. The chance to leave this world on her own terms? At her own hands? That was a luxury she couldn’t even imagine, an ending that just didn’t fit a story like hers.

Now, as she tries to reconcile this twist ending in the precious few seconds she has left, she thinks that it couldn’t have happened differently. There’s something inevitable about the fall, the relentless tug of gravity that bears her down. She set this thing in motion, and now… it’s out of her hands.

She breathes. Her last breath? Not yet. She keeps her eyes open, wide open to the last second. They water, tears clinging to her eyelashes before flinging themselves into the air, but she won’t look away now. She knows Clint is still there, wonders if he is watching. She keeps her eyes down, looking forward, at the end. It’s coming. It’s coming.

There’s a loosening in her chest. A giving way, a release. She thinks that now, of all times, she should know what she’s feeling, but it’s never been her job to put words to the truth. It’s enough that she feels it, blooming there as a stubborn, invasive growth, the petals that unfurl and push against her ribcage, expanding, curling their way through the space between her lungs, filling the cavity around her heart—it’s full, it’s _brimming_ , and still flowers crawl up her throat, push at her tongue and tickle her teeth. If she were to speak now, she’s sure she’d cough up a storm of petals, the scattered pieces of what she wants to say, an inkling of this vast feeling that pushes at the very contours of her being.

It isn’t fear. She knows fear, knows it intimately, and she hasn’t feared dying since she was a little girl training herself to end lives without remorse. But she has always, always dreaded the very moment of her death—the instant when she goes from “being” to “was.” The moment when she ends—when she’s meant to look back on everything, and see it done. She does fear being finished, and even more so looking back.

But she isn’t afraid. She’s… she’s something. She’s still becoming, right now—she can’t put her finger on it, because she still is. Her heart stutters around a bouquet, and she still doesn’t know. And it’s okay.

And when the ground finally rushes up to meet her, eyes open, face first, it’s not her past that flashes before her eyes, all completed and polished. It’s not her darkness, her demons, the bloody monsters that cling to her back and make her afraid to stop moving. In that last blink of light, she swears she sees time all splayed out before her, stretching ‘til it touches the horizons and even then expanding on, propelling itself ceaselessly into the distance. It’s the future. The name that she’ll leave behind, the story that won’t quite end.

_“Natasha… doesn’t need a eulogy. Hell, she went to her own funeral, twice, and she hated the whole stupid thing. She didn’t want a ‘greatest hits’ celebration, and she didn’t need a catalogue of her mistakes or how far she came. She spent so much time pretending to be someone else, it’s—it’s a joke to think anyone could make a little ten-minute speech and get at even a tiny bit of who she was, even me. Especially me. So I’m not going to bother trying to tell you who she was, because that’s a puzzle we’re all going to have to spend the rest of our lives trying to solve. This right here is a pretty good start… But I think we all know that there’s way more to her than what she ever let any of us see. And that’s okay. We’ll never know it all, not really, but that just means we can keep finding more that we never got to see before. That’s a hell of a lot better than just ‘remembering’ her by ourselves would be, anyway. We’re gonna be okay.”_

_“Natasha was the kind of friend who always had your six, before you even knew you needed it. She struggled with thinking of herself as a hero, and I’m not standing up here to tell you whether that was right or wrong, whether she was or wasn’t. That’s not my place. All I can do is tell you what I saw, out there in the field and back at home, as a leader, a teammate, and a friend. Maybe it’s because we’re feeling adrift right now, working through our losses, but what I admire the most about Natasha in this moment is her relentlessness. She didn’t always have the answer, but she always had a way forward, a next step that she took without hesitation. Her actions, and her full life and service—that all speaks for itself. But she still has lessons to teach us, lessons that can guide us with the same courage and resourcefulness that we knew her for, and to me, at least, that’s a legacy that speaks to a bright and better future.”_

_“I don’t think any of us came into this thing expecting to find much more than a dysfunctional group of super-powered assholes who occasionally manage to stop the world from imploding, somehow. I know I didn’t, anyway, and neither did Nat, because she—she told me. She wasn’t looking for a family, and she didn’t want one here. And maybe it wasn’t the family she expected, or the one she would’ve chosen, but I think we can all agree that the Avengers have a way of giving you what you need whether you recognize it or not. Natasha… she helped me recognize it. What I needed, and what I could have if I let myself. We built this thing together, and I’m going to make sure we don’t waste it. That’s the least I can do, that any of us can do, for her.”_

_“Romanova was the goddamn glue that held this whole mess together. And she was so damn good at it, too, she was practically invisible. So you might not see it at first, how different it’ll be now. How much harder every little mission is going to get, or how much worse every little hiccup will be, or how much messier every screw-up will get. But we’re all sure as hell gonna feel it, whether we’re ready for it or not. So I’ve got just one thing to say to all of you: you’d better be goddamn ready.”_

It hits her all at once, shatters her to pieces with the force of it. A single moment, a devastating impact.

Remain. Endure. And soar.

***

Thank you, Black Widow.


End file.
